16
A Trick of the Light
A One-act Play
by
KENT R. BROWN
Dranlatic PublishingWoodstock, Illinois • England • Australia • New Zealand
© The Dramatic Publishing Company, Woodstock, Illinois
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©MCMXCVI byKENT R. BROWN
Printed in the United States of AmericaAll Rights Reserved
(A TRICK OF THE LIGHT)
ISBN: 0-87129-662-4
© The Dramatic Publishing Company, Woodstock, Illinois
For my father,Charles Crandall Brown,
who taught me how to live life withdignity and great respect
© The Dramatic Publishing Company, Woodstock, Illinois
The author wishes to convey his deep appreciation for theopportunity of presenting A TRICK OF THE LIGHT during the1995 Sewanee Writers' Conference. Special thanks is alsoextended to Mr. Hudson Plumb who portrayed the role of theson, while the author read the role of the Father.
© The Dramatic Publishing Company, Woodstock, Illinois
A TRICK OF THE LIGHT
A One-Act PlayFor Two Men
CHARACTERS
DAD upper years
SON middle-to-Iate forties
TIME: The present.
PLACE: Eugene, Oregon
Note: A TRICK OF THE LIGHT does not advocate norrepudiate assisted suicide; nor does it advocate counsel for theelderly.
© The Dramatic Publishing Company, Woodstock, Illinois
A TRICK OF THE LIGHT
AT THE CURTAIN: The SON, standing a little outside theplaying area, holds an overnight hag in his hand. He iswearing an overcoat. The DAD is seated looking out alarge ''picture window" waiting for the SON's arrival.
SON (to A UDIENCE). It had been an easy train ride. Fourhours on Amtrak. I was able to find a window seat. Time tothink. Very relaxing.
DAD (to A UDIENCE). He usually gets a window seat when hecomes to visit. Lives in an office. Helps relax him to see theoutdoors.
SON (to A UDIENCE). I can watch the mountains in the distance. The sky.
DAD (to AUDIENCE). We have lovely scenery. Wonderfulmountains. That's why I moved here. Very restful.
SON (to A UDIENCE). The wood mills. Smoke rising quietly.Smoke rises where I live, too, but it's anything but quiet.
DAD (to AUDIENCE). I couldn't live in a big city anymore.All that sound-Everything's so messy. Don't have to live ina big city so I don't. Lots of energy in a city, though. Sometimes I miss the energy.
SON (to A UDIENCE). I rented a car at the station. Gives us achance to get out. Do a little shopping maybe. We usuallydon't, though. They have a few guest rooms here for family
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Page 8 A TRICK OF THE LIGHT
members. (Looking at DAD.) He looks good. Good color.Such pride in how he dresses.
DAD (to A UDIENCE). My father worked in the silver mine inKellogg, Idaho. The Bunker Hill Mine. Tall man. Strong.Very long arms. Left every morning at 4:00 and took a lunchpail with him into the shaft. But he would shave. Every day.·'Going to work is an important event, Son," he'd say. "Keepyourself neat." Always stayed with me.
SON (to A UDIENCE). I knocked on the door. Dad was waitingfor me.
DAD. Who is it?SON. It's me, Dad.DAD. Oh, good. You're here. Just a second.
SON (as DAD moves to the "door"). He took a moment ortwo. I could hear him approaching. Then he opened the doorand gave me a handshake and then a big hug. (DAD andSON embrace at the "door.")
DAD. Well, OK. Here you are. You look good.SON. So do you.DAD. Well, well. Will you look at you. Is that a bit more gray I
see up there?
SON. Maybe. Just a little more.DAD. Make it all right? No trouble?SON. No trouble at all. Got a window seat. Wonderful view.DAD. Right on time?SON. Right on time. Well, a few minutes late. No traffic,
though. I got a window seat.DAD. I thought so.
SON. This time of year, absolutely beautiful out there.DAD. I thought maybe a few minutes late. A little trouble.SON. No trouble.DAD. Good, then. No trouble. You look good, Son.SON. So do you, Dad.
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A TRICK OF THE LIGHT Page 9
DAD. I've been looking forward to our visit. So much to talkabout.
SON. Me, too.DAD. I've made some notes. (DAD moves to the desk and
picks up a few pieces ofpaper in an effort to get his bearings.) They're here somewhere. Well, lots of time to coverthe notes. Keeps things straight. Notes. Keeps me on track.Lots of time, though.
SON (removing his coat and hanging it on the coat rack). Abeautiful trip, Dad. Sunset over the lake. I can't see the sunsetout my window. Apartments go for miles.
DAD (has found his notes by now and is refreshing his memory). Over the lake, eh? Now that's a sight, isn't it? Sunseton the lake. I should catch that sometime soon.
SON. Well, we could do that tomorrow if you like.DAD. Tomorrow?SON. We could go up to Portland. Spend the night. I checked
the schedule and-DAD. Room service in the morning? I like that.
SON. There you go. My treat.DAD. Well, first things first, what do you say?
SON. It's no trouble. I've got the car outside.
DAD. We'll talk about it later. (An extended pause. DAD appears absorbed in his notes.)
SON (to AUDIENCE). We usually began this way, a commentor two about how each of us looked, how the ride was. Dadwould usually mention a desire to see a sunset or take a trip.But we never did. Time always took us by surprise, he wouldsay.
DAD. You sure look trim, Son. Watching those fat grams?Those are all the rage now. In the old days it was all in themeat and potatoes and gravy. But not today!
SON. Well, I try to watch it on the road but it's a bit-
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DAD. I've been watching my weight. Trying to anyway.
SON. Good. Any exercise? Walking a bit?
DAD. But the doctor says you can't be inhuman about it. Youhave to eat something tasty once in a while or you'll go offyour nut. Just have to be smart. Hardest thing in the world tobe, though, isn't it? To be smart.
SON (now in the chair). How about that exercise? Go for awalk later? Shag some flies, maybe?
DAD. We'll see ... Felt a little rough this morning. Right here. Alittle scratchy. (Indicates his throat.) Don't want to catchanything. (Beat.) Did you say shag some flies? Is that whatyou said? (DAD chuckles at the memory.)
SON (to AUDIENCE). There was a large field just below ourapartment building and on Sundays he'd play catch with me.He'd change into his weekend trousers and one of his oldwork shirts and we'd walk down the path to the field.
DAD (to AUDIENCE). He had a good wing on him. Snapped itright in there from way out. But he couldn't stay in the batter's box. Always pulled back. Just a little. That'd slow hiships from coming around. I didn't blame him. Got hit oncemyself. Right in the face when I was eleven. Know how itfeels.
SON (to A UDIENCE). Said I had a good wing on me. Couldsend it into home plate on one bounce. Dad would hit fungosand 1-
DAD. Shag fungos! That's what we'd do, remember?
SON. I was just thinking about that.
DAD. Hit fungos? Shag balls?
SON. Flies.
DAD. Flies?
SON & DAD. Shag flies. Hit fungos!
DAD (laughs). That feels better. Is that it?
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A TRICK OF THE LIGHT Page 11
SON (enjoying his father's energy and laughter). That's it.(An extended silence. DAD begins to check his surroundings, pulling out an item or two from his pockets, walkingto the "window" and looking out. It is his way of "kickingthe tires, " ofkeeping track of his life.)
DAD (appraising his son's trousers). Nice pants.SON. Thanks. Something comfortable to travel in.DAD. Shoes, too. Good heels. I noticed right away. Let me have
a look.
SON (taking off one of his loafers and handing it to DAD. AsDAD checks out the shoes, the SON addresses the A UDIENCE). Dad was wearing a pair of trousers. Light gray. Acrease you could cut your finger on. He had good taste. Notflashy. Just good quality. "You buy quality, you live quality."That was one of his favorite observations.
DAD. These are well made. Good looking too, You buy quality,you live quality.
SON (still addressing the AUDIENCE). And a crisp, whiteshirt. Sometimes he wore what he called "quiet" stripes.There wasn't much that was flashy about Dad.
DAD (giving the shoe back to the SON). Have you seen thenew Florsheims?
SON. No, can't say I have. I need some new shoes, though.Maybe tomorrow we could go downtown and
DAD. Just not the leather there used to be. Cutting back.SON. Well, they shouldn't do that.DAD. Cutting back all over. Quality's just falling off every
where. Tomorrow we'll go downtown and have a look butyou'll see ... three steps and they fall right off your feet. (DADis distracted by looking out the "window.' ')
SON (to A UDIENCE). When I was home from college in thesummer he'd get out all our shoes and line them up on theback porch. Set out his brushes and his polish and "get a little
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sun," as he used to call it, while he put everybody's best footforward. I'd offer to help but he said he enjoyed it. Said itcleared his mind. And he'd ask me what I learned in schoolthat year. And was I a better man for the knowledge.
DAD. Remember how I'd do the shoes sometimes? In the summer?
SON. On the back porch?DAD. Your mom would make some lemonade. I'll never forget.
Bitter. Whew, she made some bitter lemonade. "Something topucker you up, sweetheart," she'd say-Why she thought Ineeded puckering up is a bit vague to me now.
SON. Maybe you were too sweet, Dad.
DAD. Me? Too sweet! I'm sure that was it. (Both laugh.) Andyou'd read some of those term papers you had to write inschool. One was about the nature of truth ... uh ... a certainkind of value. That was it. Value. Does anything have ... huh,well ... I enjoyed them a lot.
SON. Intrinsic.DAD. What's that?
SON. Intrinsic value. Value unto itself.
DAD. Or do we determine the value of everything in our life?SON. That's it.
DAD. Well, that was a long afternoon, as I remember it. Goodthing I had all our shoes out there, eh? Your mother wouldcome out and just sit and listen to us talk things over. Saidshe loved watching her boys getting to know each other.(Beat.) I think we determine the value of things, don't you?
SON. I guess we do, yes.
DAD. Sometimes they change as we get older, though.
SON (to A UDIENCE). My mother died about fifteen years ago.One morning she was taking the sheets off the bed to putthem in the laundry and fell straight to the floor. Cerebralhemorrhage. Dad found her when he came home for lunch.
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A TRICK OF THE LIGHT Page 13
(The sound of an ambulance is heard in the distance. As itgets closer it suddenly cuts out.)
DAD. Hear that? They called the ambulance people and askedthem to cut the siren whenever they have to come here. Everyone gets a little..nervous ... freaky. Isn't that the word?(Laughs.) You never know when, do you? (Beat.) So, you'reset to go back on ... uh ...
SON. Saturday. Saturday afternoon.DAD. Saturday, right. Saturday afternoon.SON. Right. The train leaves here at 1:30 on Saturday.
DAD. Saturday. Got it.SON. Then I get in to Seattle byDAD. The train, eh?SON. Yes, leaves here on Saturday by 1:30 ... then in to Seattle
by 7:30 or so. Spend the night. Saturday night. Then out byair on Sunday morning and home by "60 Minutes."
DAD. Got it. "60 Minutes." A good show.
SON (to AUDIENCE). It's almost the first thing he asks. Whenam I leaving? We all like our own routine. That's all he'sreally saying. And he's right. After two or three days mymind is more and more back at the office. Calls to make.Things to do.
DAD (to AUDIENCE). I love to have him here. The talks. Thestories. But I have my own routine. There's the extra effort.The scheduling. Working things out.
SON (moving to his overnight bag). I brought you a littlesomething, Dad.
DAD. What's the occasion? Did I miss my birthday?SON. No occasion. Just thought you might enjoy a gift.DAD. I know it's not my birthday. Just joking. I'm not around
the bend yet. I see it coming but I'm not quite there yet.SON. You'll outlive us all, Dad.
DAD. There's just the two of us, Son.
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SON. The two musketeers. Right. (Giving DAD a modestlywrapped package.)
DAD (beginning to unwrap the package). You need a wife,Son. You can't wrap a package to save yourself. (The package is now open.) Hey, how about that! A new belt.
SON. Real leather.DAD. As it should be.SON (enjoying the repartee). Yes, sir! Good quality. Try it on.DAD (begins to put on the belt). Your grandfather loved his
belts. Had a closet full of them. Salesmen would stop at thestore and your grandfather would say "What do ya have inthe way of belts?" And they'd pull out their latest. Handrubbed. You could see the pride in the workmanship.
SON (to A UDIENCE). My grandfather ran a general store. InKellogg. The mine kept shutting down so he went into business for himself. Dad used to help out on weekends.
DAD (ready to model the new belt). Well, what do you think?SON. Very nice. Very clean line.DAD. When your grandfather died, your grandmother gave me
all his belts. Ever tell you that?SON. No, never did.DAD. But none of them fit! They were too big. Damndest thing.
I was up in his room after the funeral with belts all over theplace and they wouldn't fit! I was skinny for my age ... 14,15 ... I was furious with him. Took a knife and cut most ofthem in half. Your grandmother found me crying. We're avery trivial species, Son. Petty. Awfully petty when it comesto things that really don't make a difference.
SON. What did you do with the belts?
DAD. Kept two of them, gave the rest to the town bums. Ole'and Johansen. Your grandfather used to hire them to do oddjobs around the store once in a while. They came to the funeral. Dad would have appreciated that.
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A TRICK OF THE LIGHT Page 15
SON. What happened to the other two belts?DAD. They were a strange pair. Hardly ever saw them talking to
each other. They'd just nod their heads and stare at eachother like they were married.
SON (beat). Whatever happened to the other belts?DAD. Um? Which other belts?SON. The two you kept. Granddad's belts?DAD. Don't know. One day they were just gone. Must have left
them behind during one of our moves. Maybe the one fromNew York to San Diego ... or that move after your mother'sthyroid operation ...
SON. From Cincinnati to Phoenix?
DAD. Yeah, that must have been it. (Beat.) Didn't look farenough back in the closet, I guess. I wonder where they arenow? (DAD is in his chair again and looking off a..<; if concentrating on an object only he can see.)
SON (to AUDIENCE). Each time we visit I learn more abouthis life. There are huge volumes about this man I haven'tread yet. We spend most of our time talking about me or thechildren, or my job. "I know about my life, Son. I live withmyself twenty-four hours a day." And then he asks anotherquestion about my life.
DAD. You doing OK?SON. Yep. Doing just fine,DAD. You look OK. You feeling OK?SON. Thanks. Yes, I am.DAD. You still like your job?SON. Well, I don't mind going to work in the morning. Most
days anyway. It's still a challenge. I'm getting better at it.DAD. These are times to keep your job just in case you're think
ing the grass is greener on the other side of the fence.SON. I'm not.
DAD. That's good. Because it's not. It just looks that way.
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SON. A trick of the light.DAD. That's it. You settle in. Invest yourself. Take the highs
and the lows. I took my hits, I'll tell you that. But you makedo.
SON. I'm pleased where I am. We're beginning to grow. Goodfuture.
DAD (to A UDIENCE). Every now and then he gets itchy feet.Thinks things may be a little fresher on the other side of thefence. They aren't. It's only a trick of the light. He's an analyst for a consulting firm. Don't really know what he doesbut he analyzes things. And they like him there.
SON. They like me there, Dad. I like me there.
DAD (rising to his feet and pacing a bit. To SON). Well,good. You can't spend more than a few hours doing all thoseother things we fill up our life with ... eating, talking, sleeping,having sex, playing baseball ... so you'd better Ii ke your work.
SON (smiling). I know. You're right. I do.
DAD. Work is the salvation of the soul, you know?SON. I do.
DAD. Good. (The "lesson" is over. DAD shifts gears.) Yougetting hungry?
SON. No, not yet. Ate something on the train.DAD. Think I'll celebrate your arrival. Have a beer. Then I'll
check those notes and we can ... care to join me? (DAD exitsto the "kitchen.")
SON. No, none for me, thanks. Maybe later. Can I help?
DAD (offstage). I've been drinking my own beer for decadesnow, Son. But I'll let you know if I need any help.
SON (to A UDIENCE). Late in the afternoon around 4:00 Dadwould get a beer, sit, cross his legs, take a sip ... and look outthe window again. "Nothing's changed since I left... but Ikeep hoping." On the last few trips I noticed he started drinking a bit earlier in the aftemoons. A couple for lunch and-
© The Dramatic Publishing Company, Woodstock, Illinois
